The Stranger's Obituary

by Jessica L. Randall

  They got personal sometimes, but she was strong enough to handle it now. She tried to swallow her pride and remind herself that she wasn't exiled or desperate. She'd chosen this. She didn't know how Evan was handling things, but she was going to do it as gracefully as possible so she had a fan base to return to.

  She'd even given a couple interviews about how she was just returning to her roots and needed space to sort things out, waitressing to keep busy and help out a friend.

  She could tell Doug didn't exactly love the new element, but he knew it was good for business, and he was a patient person, so he'd handled it okay. The reporters had moved on now that the story was stale, so Doug wasn't giving anyone nasty coffee—well, except for the one Mina let out of the barn. That one had learned to pass on the coffee, but he came in often enough that he and Doug had built up a decent rapport, and Doug didn't do anything bad to his food.

  Bernadette grabbed her notepad and walked over to the two men, trying to put all that talk about Susan out of her mind. She took a big breath and flashed a sparkling smile. She was an actress, after all.

  “Hi there. Can I get you something to drink?”

  The taller one eyed her up and down. “I'll tell you what you can get me—”

  The wide one smacked him in the chest, and they both laughed.

  Bernadette narrowed her eyes. “Two cups of coffee, then.” Surely Doug would be happy to make up his special brew one more time.

  “Sounds good,” the tall one said.

  As she went into the kitchen, she heard one of them say in a low voice, “And take your time walkin' back there.” They both broke out laughing again.

  She called Doug out of the back room, and a couple of minutes later returned with a pot of coffee and two cups. Lips tight, she poured it and stepped back to watch.

  They brought the cups to their lips, then spit it out with bitter faces. “That's coffee? I have a feeling we don't want whatever it is you're cookin' here,” the tall one said. “But if you'll take a photo with us we'll be on our way.”

  Bernadette clenched her jaw, then smiled stiffly. “Sure.” The sooner they left the better.

  “Right here, in between us,” the other one said.

  Bernadette walked cautiously, leaning in between them as they held out their phones.

  The two men grinned, as if holding back a laugh. At the count of three one of them grabbed her behind as they snapped the picture. She jumped back, clenching her fists as they hooted with laughter.

  Doug stalked from behind the counter with his face on fire. The men jerked up, knocking their chairs over behind them. Eyes wide, they backed up.

  Then they looked at each other, gaining confidence as they realized there were two of them. They were so transparent it was as if ticker tape flashed across their foreheads. They jutted their chins out and folded their arms, stepping forward in a challenge.

  Doug rounded the table, but Bernadette ran toward him, grabbing his arm.

  “Doug, you don't need a lawsuit,” she whispered.

  As if on cue Susan Walters came in. Her brows raised high at the scene she'd walked in on.

  Doug snorted, his eyes flashing to Susan.

  “It's about time I earned a lawsuit threat.”

  Griz stood, pulling off his jacket. He wasn't young, but he still looked like a force to be reckoned with.

  “Now, nobody's saying anything about that. I ain't letting anybody get between me and my favorite burger.”

  Several chairs throughout the diner screeched as they scooted across the tile floor. Three men, and a sturdy-looking woman Bernadette recognized from her mother's reading group, walked behind Doug. One man rolled up his sleeves. The woman reached into her purse, Bernadette could only guess for what. The last man put a hand on Doug's shoulder, as if to hold him off.

  The men swore, backing toward the door, then turned and ran, stumbling over each other on their way out. Susan sneered and slipped out behind them.

  After a moment of silence, Griz let out a mighty guffaw of laughter and the rest followed suit, all except Doug and Bernadette. The others slapped each other on the backs and went back to their seats to finish their meals.

  In the last eight years, Bernadette had never met anyone who would stand up for her like that without hoping for anything in return. These people acted like it was no big deal.

  She and Doug stared at each other. Doug's face still radiated heat. He slapped his palm over his forehead.

  “Bernie, I'll never understand why you wanted this kind of life. People watching every thing you do, profiting off your mistakes and your successes, taking a poke at you anytime they get a chance. Creepy guys like that following you around.”

  “So they assault me and it's my fault?”

  “No—” He turned and tromped back to the kitchen. “I didn't mean it like that. You should have let me beat them to a bloody pulp.”

  Looking at the tension in his muscles, his clenched fists and jaw, the flash in his eyes, Bernadette knew he meant it. Before she came back to Auburn she'd never seen Doug get violent, and he rarely lost his temper. She wondered if he'd changed over the years, or if her return was bringing out a different side of him. It seemed she had a security detail after all.

  Doug sighed, looking more like himself, but with less life in his eyes.

  “These people just drive me crazy. Look, I know you had places to go and things to see. I guess I always just hoped you'd find your way back here.”

  “How can you say that after what I did?”

  She remembered the day he proposed. He'd arranged for Bernadette to be chosen to put the star on the tall Christmas tree in the town square, with everybody watching. They were lifted together to the top of the tree, where she found a little box perched on top. She exchanged it for the star, and opened it to find his grandmother's ring inside, colored lights bouncing off the three emeralds. She threw her arms around him and kissed him, the whole town clapping and shouting from below. That was before everything fell apart.

  “You proposed, and I took the money you were saving for the restaurant. I kept your grandmother's ring and took off without a word.”

  When she looked at Doug, she didn't see any anger. Just hurt, and maybe something else. Something that she couldn't handle.

  “Don't look at me like that. I don't deserve it.”

  “I was angry. But I know you, Bernie. . .” Doug’s eyes pleaded with her. “Tell me what really happened.”

  Without even grabbing her purse, Bernadette turned and rushed out of the restaurant. But she stopped short when she saw someone sitting outside. She sat with her back against the wall, her head dipped down. She wore the same threadbare dress. She was humming.

  “You're back.”

  The woman looked up only briefly, then lowered her head and began humming again.

  The song seemed familiar. It was so sad, so haunting.

  “I saw you in the rain the other day. But you disappeared. Please. Let me help you.”

  But no matter what she tried, the woman wouldn't be moved.

  Bernadette glanced around frantically. She couldn't go back into the diner. She sighed with relief when the door to the hardware store just two shops down opened, and the sheriff stepped out.

  “Stay right here.”

  Bernadette ran to Frank, tugging on his arm.

  “There's a woman here. She needs help.”

  Frank's face wrinkled with concern as he glanced around.

  “Okay there, Bernie. Where is she?”

  They'd reached the diner. Bernadette looked down at the empty sidewalk.

  She spun around, desperately searching. Her throat tightened. This was the third time she'd seen this woman. Why did she never stay in one place for more than a few seconds, and why had no one helped her?

  “She's gone again. I swear, she was here just seconds ago.”

  “Now, why don't you tell me what happened.”

  “I saw a woman here one day. She looked so
... broken. She said someone took her daughter.”

  Frank stepped forward and took her arm. “That's serious. When was this?”

  “A couple weeks ago. But before I could help her she was gone. Then I saw her again, right about when that hole opened up.”

  Frank's face seem to cloud over a moment as he looked over Bernadette's shoulder at the gaping crack. Then he looked back at Bernadette, taking out his notepad and pen.

  “I don't know what to make of it all, but I'll keep an eye out. How about you start by describing her to me.”

  Bernadette took a few deep breaths as she pictured the woman's face.

  “She had green eyes. Unusually large, green eyes. And blondish hair. She was really thin. Her face looked hollow. And she was wearing a rust-colored dress.”

  She realized that Frank had stopped writing, his pen stuck half-way through the description. His jaw had slackened, and he was looking at the hole again.

  “Frank?” She stared at him, worried about the strange look on his face. “Frank!”

  His eyes jerked back to her. “Oh? Oh. Sorry. We're just trying to get all of that business figured out. It's very disturbing, something like that happening in our little town.” He stuffed the pad back in his pocket. “Go on home, Bernie. I'll look around. Tell you if I see anything.”

  Bernadette sighed and started toward home, but stopped short when she heard a gasp behind her. She whirled around. When she saw Frank sinking to his knees it was as if her heart turned to ice, leaving her chest cold and her extremities stiff and useless. She looked at his pale blue eyes, wide and terrifying, and the panic-spell that held her shattered. She ran to him.

  “Frank, what's happening? Where is the pain?” Still he stared. It was as if she wasn't there.

  Bernie pounded on the window of the diner, then pulled out her phone, dialing 911 as she cradled his head in her lap.

  Chapter 13

  Old Melody

  “Have you heard anything new about Frank?” Bernie asked, wandering into the kitchen.

  Mina grabbed the salt and baking powder, the final ingredients for her lemon crinkle cookies, and put them on the counter. She liked to have everything assembled before she started baking.

  “Not much. Roberta made him see a specialist in Omaha.”

  “I'll bet he hated that.”

  “Yeah, he probably hasn't seen a doctor in his whole adult life. She confirmed that there was no damage to his heart, though. They still don't really know what happened.” She grabbed the measuring cups, furrowing her brow as she imagined Frank looking so vulnerable in that hospital bed. Even though the doctor said he was okay, she was afraid it was the beginning of something. She'd known Frank for so long, and he was always so tough, she'd never really thought of him as old. When she saw him the other day, she'd looked at his arm, the bones and veins jutting out. He'd looked frail to her for the first time.

  “I'm sure she's right. It's just ... you should have seen him. It was awful.” Bernie turned away. She began rifling through the pasta packages in the cupboard. “I suppose we should find something for dinner.”

  As Mina measured the sugar, Bernie began to hum. The force of the memory slammed into Mina like a punch in the gut. The emotions were so powerful. Guilt, and shame, and fear, and love. Mina tasted all of these in the small, shabby bathroom where a woman bathed a baby, dribbling water over soft tufts of hair as she sang. The baby felt only contentment. The woman looked gaunt and unhealthy. There was something familiar in her face. But it was the baby Mina knew.

  “Mina, what's wrong?”

  Mina looked at her sister, then down at the kitchen floor, where she'd dumped the sugar.

  “Where did you hear that song?”

  Bernie paused, cocking her head as if she hadn't realized she was singing.

  “Oh. A woman was singing it outside the diner the day that Frank ...” She turned, gripping a box of pasta salad. “It's the strangest thing ...”

  ***

  The next day, Mina threw on her sweater and hurried out the front door. She glanced up and down the street, looking for that reporter, Calvin. She clenched her jaw, willing away the pinch of disappointment in her chest. It was a shame she couldn't shake off that kiss and the sound of his voice in her ear.

  The thought of Calvin brought to mind the tree in the backyard, which she'd found torn from the ground when she returned home from the Parker's barn. As sturdy as it seemed, it was no match for that storm. Mina had a feeling that no matter how hard she tried, there was change in store for her too.

  There was no point in pretending she wasn't tempted to snap Calvin up like a ticket to some exotic place where the sand was warm and every street unexplored. But by now she knew what was good for her and what wasn't. He definitely wasn't.

  He'd been in her dream again last night. It was perfect, like the other times, the sun shining from a clear sky, the relaxing sound of the surf sweeping across the sand. When Calvin reached out to grab her hand, dark clouds covered the sun. They raced across the green-tinged sky, and began swirling as the wind picked up. The umbrella broke off and flew away. She choked as the waves started crashing down on her. She looked at him, panic filling her chest. He was smiling.

  He hadn't shown up since that day in the barn, and she wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a very bad thing. Who knew what he was up to? A nagging thought insisted there was no way he would have up and left after the determination he'd shown. But then again, it wouldn't be the first time someone had been scared off by Mina's “gift.”

  One thing was for sure—she was glad he wasn't around today. Something was definitely wrong. Before her death, Mina's mother had told her their secret was safe. Bernie's mother would never come looking for them. At the sight of her mother's face, so pale and tight, Mina hadn't asked why.

  So how was it possible that the woman was here? Maybe this was an elaborate ruse, and someone was messing with her. Her mind flitted to Calvin again. If he was as good as he claimed to be, maybe he had uncovered their secret. Could he be trying to shake her up, hoping she'd let fall some piece of information he lacked before telling the world what her mother had done?

  She knew it couldn't be true. She'd carried this burden long enough to know, more or less, how it worked. The memory had to come from a person nearby. In this case, Bernie herself. But Bernie was just a baby. She doubted Bernie even remembered it. Maybe that didn't matter.

  Mina didn't know what she expected to happen when she reached the diner. She could probably stand here for days and never see the woman. But she couldn't sit at home. She felt jittery, uneasy, and one could only bake so many batches of cookies.

  Mina walked around the taped off area, her stomach sinking at the sight of the gaping hole. Junie Ellison sat cross-legged under the big front window of the diner. She held Doug's old stereo in her lap, and was twisting the screws out with a butter knife.

  She looked up when Mina stepped onto the curb.

  “Doug said I could dissect it.”

  “Cool.” Mina crossed to the chair Doug had left outside the door since Easter. She sat, slinking down in the hopes that Bernie wouldn't see her from inside. Maybe she couldn't keep the truth from Bernie any longer. Maybe there was no point to lying anymore. But she didn't want to answer any questions just yet, and if Mina was out, Bernie would want to know why.

  “What are you doing?” Junie asked.

  “I'm looking for someone.”

  “Who?”

  “I'm not sure. A woman.”

  “The crying one?”

  Mina looked sharply at the girl. “You've seen her?”

  Junie nodded, giving the plastic stereo a sharp bang on the cement. Static came from the radio's speakers. Mina gave the dangling cord a double-take. The battery compartment hung open, empty, and the machine was in the early stages of an autopsy. It shouldn't have a breath of life left in it.

  Mina cocked her head as a faint melody emerged from beneath the static. She tried to ma
ke it out. It sounded like something from the eighties.

  Mina grabbed the chair with both hands, flinging her head and body back as if she were heading downhill on a roller coaster. She squeezed her eyes shut. Desperation. Fear. Pain. She'd never felt emotions so strongly before. She'd never really been physically affected by them until recently. It was like having a seizure.

  The feelings were potent, but the images were weak, like watching a movie on a staticky television. The picture came and went as the reception gained strength, then weakened.

  Bernie's mother was confronting Mina's. Mina knew why.

  “You had no right to take her!” The woman stumbled, her legs unsteady. Her eyes were wild.

  A gun glinted in the woman's hand as she raised it.

  Mina's heart nearly exploded at the deafening bang, but she forced herself to focus until her head ached. Somehow it was the woman who fell. Her mother dropped to the floor, crying as she grasped the woman's lifeless hand. Someone knelt down beside her, wrapping his arm around her. She couldn't see who it was. But she thought she knew. The song ended.

  Mina blinked. Her eyes hurt from closing them so tight. She shuddered at what she'd just seen.

  She was already four when Bernie became her little sister. The story about all the photos from the first two years of her life being destroyed in a fire may have worked on Bernie, but not Mina. Then in high school, she'd caught glimpses. Her mother liked to listen to the radio.

  Eventually her mother had no choice but to tell her the truth. She'd taken Bernie.

  But this was a part of the story she never knew. Bernie's mother was dead.

  So who was the woman wandering the sidewalk in front of Doug's diner?

  Chapter 14

  The Sheriff’s Secret

  Frank Larson had his burger raised halfway to his mouth when Mina walked in the door. The other customers reacted much the same to her presence, food suspended in various states of consumption. She never came in here.